


Castles, Curses, and Klondike Bars

by Spunkybob5



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Curses, Eventual Smut, First Time, Fluff, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, Romance, Scooby Doo - Freeform, Smut, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 04:09:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6455134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spunkybob5/pseuds/Spunkybob5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean, Castiel, and Sam find themselves on a case fit for Scooby Doo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Another product of words provided by Holly, human random word generator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no smut in the first chapter, so hang tight!

Dean slammed the trunk of the impala, “What don’t you get, Cas?”

Castiel took the offered rifle and confirmed it was loaded with rock salt. “It seems pretty clear that the indigenous people of this land did not approve of invaders settling it. The curse is well documented. Yet the founders of this town chose to build a castle here. I fail to see the logic of that decision.”

Sam twirled the iron crowbar in his hands. “Most people don’t think curses are real, Cas. They laugh them off as old wives tales or silly coincidences.”

“They think it is a coincidence that someone dies here every year on the exact same date?”

Sam shrugged, “The castle has been vacant on and off for a lot of years. Most people wouldn’t put it together.”

“Guys,” Dean interrupted. “I think you’re missing the most important part of this job.”

Castiel and Sam looked back at Dean blankly.

“We are literally hunting ghosts from an Indian burial ground in a castle! Do you know what that means?”

“Um,” Sam hesitated. “That we have a weird idea of fun?”

“No! Well, yes. But no!” Dean gestured wide. “It means we are _living_ a Scooby Doo episode!”

Castiel tilted his head, “How is this a cartoon with a Great Dane?”

Dean paused. “OK, yeah, we are missing Scooby. But! Most of the gang is here! I’m Fred, Sam’s Velma –“

“Hey!” Sam protested.

“ – and you’re Daphne. It’s perfect,” Dean grinned.

“I’m way taller than Velma,” Sam groused.

“I believe I will need to do more research on this cartoon to fully appreciate the reference,” Castiel said gently.

Dean slung his arm over Castiel’s shoulders. “When we get back to the bunker, it’s a Scooby Doo-a-thon.”

The three men trudged up the hill towards the castle, eerie in the moonlight. Dean let his hand slide down Castiel’s arm, intertwining their fingers. He still wasn’t really comfortable having Castiel out on hunts. Dean told himself it was because Castiel is still healing from the attack dog spell and his power level was a bit of a question mark, but he knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

Castiel had just come back to him. And when Dean told Castiel how much he cared, how much he needed him, Castiel hadn’t run. He’d _stayed_. Dean still couldn’t believe he got to kiss his Angel good night or curl into his arms and watch a movie or just hug him in the kitchen. It had only been a few weeks – they haven’t even had sex, for heaven’s sake – and Dean was happier than he’d ever been.

Then they went hunting, and all he could think about was Castiel getting hurt.

Dean shook himself. This hunt was a good way to get their feet wet. Sam had stumbled across it two weeks ago. About 150 years ago, members of the Mandan tribe had set up a make-shift hospital on the site. The Europeans had brought small pox, and it was devastating their population. The Mandans had a mostly peaceful relationship with the traders that came through, though, until a group of religious men found their way into the area. Over the course of three nights, these men ‘cleansed’ the tribe by slaughtering every man, woman, and child infected with small pox, spouting rhetoric about God’s will. The murders were captured and killed, but the tribal elders named the land sacred, and left a curse for anyone who would use it. The curse was remembered and respected by locals for 60 years, until some idiot decided he really needed a castle. On this site. In North Dakota, of all places.

And so, every year, for three nights, inhabitants of the land were killed.

Sam was pretty sure the curse would be lifted with a regular salt and burn, so the last two days had been spent digging up an Indian burial ground. It was not the most disturbing way Dean had spent a Tuesday, but it was far from his favorite. The Winchesters were glad for Castiel’s presence, first because digging graves sucks and an extra pair of hands is always appreciated, but mostly because Castiel blessed each grave as they found it. It was comforting, knowing an angel was sending these souls on their way.

So this trek to the castle was really just to make sure they hadn’t missed anything. If they’d done everything correctly, Dean would be curled up with Castiel watching Scooby Doo in less than 24 hours.

It became clear that was not going to happen 42 minutes later.

The men had settled into the living room, sitting back to back to back in a ring of salt, playing ‘I Spy,’ waiting for something to attack them. The curse did not disappoint. The entire castle shook, tapestries trembled on the walls, screams of the dying echoed around them. They barely made it out alive.

On the plus side, they didn’t see any ghosts.

Standing by the Impala, hands on his knees, scrambling for breath, Dean managed to wheeze, “That went well.”

Sam’s bitch face would have been more impressive if he wasn’t sitting on the ground gasping for air.

Castiel, of course, was unaffected by the mad dash down the hill. “I believe we will need to review the lore.”

***

Dean knew he was supposed to be researching, but it was really hard to concentrate. The crappy motel room they’d booked had only one very small table, which Sam had commandeered with his laptop. Castiel and Dean had been relegated to the bed. Castiel was leaning against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him, a book in his right hand. With his left, he was gently stroking Dean’s hair, his fingernails raking against Dean’s scalp with the perfect amount of pressure to put Dean to sleep. This meant that Dean kept dropping the heavy book he was trying to study against his nose every time he drifted off. It was a ridiculous cycle, but one Dean was reluctant to break.

Sam stretched, groaning. “I’ve got nothing. You guys?”

Dean blinked, trying to focus on the job. “Um, yeah, nothing here. Cas?”

“I have no new information,” Castiel set down his book. “But one thing puzzles me.”

“What’s that, Cas?” Sam had grabbed himself a beer, and offered one to Dean and Castiel.

Castiel accepted the bottle, but didn’t drink. “The Mandan tribe had a reputation for being relatively peaceful, but the curse we experienced was extremely violent. I am having trouble reconciling what I know of the tribe with what I know of the curse.”

“Oh my god,” Sam snapped his fingers and spun back to his laptop. “Cas, you’re a genius.”

“Tell us something we don’t know, Sammy,” Dean yawned.

“So get this,” Sam continued, ignoring Dean. “I think the tribal leaders wanted the curse to be breakable. That would be consistent with a more peaceful tribe.” Same glanced up, excited, “The exact words of the curse are pretty typical – death, destruction, justice, revenge, blah blah blah – until the end. ‘This curse of death was brought by hate cloaked in love. Only love that has broken through a cloak of hate can conquer this death.’” Sam looked up, triumphant.

“I’m gonna need more help here, Sam,” Dean prompted.

“OK, so those men who slaughtered everyone spouted love but obviously were all about hate, right? That’s the first part, the ‘hate cloaked in love.’”

“Oh,” Castiel said, his voice small.

Sam nodded enthusiastically, “So you see it, right? How to defeat the curse?”

Dean looked back and forth between Sam and Castiel. “Well, I don’t! Someone please explain it to me?”

“Dean,” Castiel sounded strained. “Only love can defeat the curse. But not just any love. It has to be true, and it has to be a relationship that has overcome hate.”

“So…two people who are really in love have to prove it? How does that even work?”

“My guess is sex will do it. It’s pretty universally accepted tangible display of love,” Sam shrugged, taking a sip of his beer.

“Who are we going to find that will have sex in that castle?”

Sam blinked, “What are you talking about? You and Cas are going to do it.”

Dean felt the bed tilt beneath him. “Say what now?”

Castiel twisted his hands. “Our relationship is ideal for this situation, Dean. In the eyes of modern human culture, we are gay, and that is certainly a much hated relationship.”

“But –“

“And,” Castiel barreled on. “In the eyes of heaven, an angel and man laying together is not a popular choice.”

“Yeah, but –“

“So the only question is whether our love is true.”

“Hold on. We can’t possibly be the first people in…a relationship to have sex in that castle,” Dean protested.

Castiel shook his head, “True love is rarer than you think, Dean. And certainly it’s possible the previous couples were in relationships that were never tried by hate.”

“Cas,” Dean spoke quietly, turning away from Sam. “We haven’t even…said that to each other yet. And we haven’t had sex. This is not how I imagined either of those things happening.”

***

“Sam will be back soon, Dean. What do you want to do?”

Dean sighed, dragging himself from the warmth of Castiel’s embrace and sitting up, turning so his legs dropped off the bed and his back was to Castiel. Sam had bolted pretty quickly after hearing Castiel and Dean hadn’t consummated their relationship. Dean is sure Sam thought they would talk, but instead they’d fallen onto the bed. They hadn’t spoken, or fucked, or even kissed. They had simply looked at each other, taking turns gently caressing the other’s face.

Dean didn’t question whether their love was true. He never had.

“I just want to go on record as saying I hate this. I hate everything about the way this is happening. I hate that it means you’re going to be in danger. I hate that…” Dean paused, unsure of how to finish his thought. He stared down at his hands. “I hate that our first time won’t be the romance you deserve.”

“Dean –“ Castiel started.

Dean stood abruptly, his back still to Castiel, “Please don’t try to soften this, Cas. It won’t work. It will only make this harder.” He grabbed a backpack and started shoving in provisions. _Rock salt, iron blade, lube – my life is so weird_.

He heard Castiel rise, felt his hand on his back, “I’ll grab a couple blankets, Dean. And a towel.”

Dean nodded, hoping Castiel couldn’t see the tears he was blinking away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Mandan tribe is real, as is the way small pox swept through their population. As far as I know, no one attacked their sick and dying. I made that part up. Further, I am aware "Indian burial ground" is not politically correct, and I apologize if that's something you're sensitive to. No disrespect is intended. The story is from Dean's POV, and I believe he would think of these graves in those terms.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel break the curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have found the smut.

“Just so you know, Scooby Doo is never this X-rated,” Dean grumped as they climbed the hill towards the castle.

“I sincerely hope not. That would hardly be appropriate for a children’s television program.”

Their conversation faded as Dean led the way into the castle. The setting sun filtered in through the stained glass, giving the space an ethereal quality. The night before they had simply stayed in the entry hall. Tonight, Dean kept going, searching for a space more intimate than a hallway.

After a few doors that turned out to be musty closets, Dean stepped into what was once probably the drawing room. Large windows opened onto the grounds. The sunset lit the room with rose rays, illuminating a large couch. Dean strode over, carefully peeling off the protective sheet to reveal the furniture was in good condition, and relatively clean. Huh. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

“What a beautiful room,” Castiel murmured.

Dean grunted. “It’ll do,” he said, slinging off his pack. “Pass me those blankets.”

Castiel obliged, and Dean spread them at the base of the couch. He wasn’t sure how the night was going to go, but giving themselves options seemed wise. He set about unpacking his other supplies, then turned to Castiel.

Castiel had removed his trench coat, folding it carefully and setting it at the edge of their blanket. Dean hadn’t noticed him carrying a picnic basket, but apparently he’d brought one. Castiel extended a beer, which Dean accepted, sitting cross-legged facing Castiel. Castiel rummaged in the basket again, then produced silver-wrapped square and offered it to Dean.

“A Klondike bar?”

“Sam said there wasn’t much you wouldn’t do for one,” Castiel explained. “I thought it might help.”

Dean chuckled, “Well, it can’t hurt.”

They ate in silence for a moment, watching the sun sink in the sky.

Castiel cleared his throat, “Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“How did you imagine it?”

“Sorry?”

Castiel fidgeted with the blanket, “You said earlier this wasn’t how you imagined saying you loved me or us having sex for the first time. So, how did you imagine it?”

Dean didn’t answer. He rose to his knees, carefully clearing the food wrappers from the blanket. Dean shuffled over to Castiel, eyes flicking to his before dropping to watch his fingers untangle the knot of his tie. He heard Castiel’s breath hitch as he pulled the tie free. Dean tossed it onto the trench coat before returning his attention to the buttons of Castiel’s shirt, popping them free one at a time before the shirt joined the tie and trench. Dean slid his hands down Castiel’s side, gently tugging his undershirt free and over his head, exposing Castiel’s gorgeous torso to the evening air.

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, steadying himself before he removed his jacket, flannel, and t-shirt. Now naked from the waist up, Dean reached for Castiel’s hand. He pressed a soft kiss to the knuckles before laying the palm over his heart. Now, finally, Dean met Castiel’s wide blue eyes.

“Do you feel that, Cas? Can you feel my heart?” Dean’s voice was soft, but not hesitant.

Castiel swallowed, nodding, “Yes, Dean.”

Dean smiled, his hand grazing Castiel’s jaw before laying his palm over Castiel’s heart. “My heart beats because of you. Some people say that, and it’s just an expression, but for us…it’s the literal truth.” Dean paused, letting their heartbeats fill the silence. “I love you, Castiel. My heart may have beat before we met, but you gave the beats meaning.”

“Dean…”

Dean leaned in, brushing his lips against Castiel’s. “That’s how I imagined it, Cas.”

Castiel stared at Dean, eyes glittering in the setting sun. “That’s…” Castiel swallowed, then started again. “I didn’t picture it like that at all.”

“Oh, yeah? What did you imagine?”

Castiel quirked an eyebrow, and suddenly Dean was on his back, wind knocked out of him. Castiel straddled him, one hand pinning Dean’s shoulder to the ground, the other cupping his jaw, thumb stroking Dean’s lower lip. Dean stared up at Castiel, green eyes saucers.

“I love you, Dean Winchester. And I will spend the rest of your life forcing you to accept it.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, a warm wind raced through the castle. The whole place rattled, but without the same malice of the previous night.

“Was that you, Cas?”

Castiel shook his head.

“Is…is the curse lifted?”

Castiel tilted his head, senses reaching for something beyond Dean’s perception. “No, I don’t think so. But it feels different. Like a crack in the magic.”

Dean nodded, still helpless on his back beneath Castiel. Not a lot of people could overpower him like that. Dean had always loved that about Castiel. “You’re so powerful,” Dean whispered, then blushed, realizing he’d spoken aloud.

Castiel started. He clearly hadn’t expected Dean to say that. His eyes narrowed, and Dean could feel Castiel’s erection growing against his. “Do you want to know how I imagined our first time, Dean?”

Dean licked his lips, “Yes.”

Abruptly, Castiel slid down Dean’s body, fingers making quick work of the button and zipper on his pants. Castiel dragged them off Dean in one motion, the boxers only a second behind. Castiel stretched himself over Dean again, letting his full weight rest on Dean as he cupped his face and kissed him.

This kiss was serious business.

Castiel’s tongue and lips toyed with Dean, leaving him panting for more even before the kiss had ended. But even when Castiel pulled away from Dean’s mouth, he didn’t relent. Dean’s whole body began to vibrate as Castiel’s talented mouth marched down his body.

Dean’s senses began to blur. He felt the feather touch of fingertips on his rib cage, a hard scrape of teeth beneath his ear, the sweep of tongue over his nipple, gentle lips on his hip bone, stubble scratching his thigh, breath hot on his cock. Castiel was everywhere, all around him, all over him, consuming him, and Dean had never felt this much pleasure.

“Cas! God, Cas, please, need you, please, Cas, please.”

“What do you want, Dean? Tell me.”

Dean opened his eyes, expression wild and primal, “Fuck me, Castiel.”

And Castiel, damn him, _growled_. Dean about came right there.

“Get on the couch, Dean.”

Dean scrambled backwards, leveraging his upper body onto the couch, his ass lined up at the edge. Dimly, he realized the castle around them was shaking. He saw the curtains blown almost sideways by the strength of the wind, but he and Castiel seemed to be in the eye of the hurricane. Then the room disappeared, because Castiel was pressing a lube-coated finger into his ass.

Dean’s back arched, and his moan was obscene. Castiel dropped kisses to Dean’s abs as he pressed another finger inside, stretching Dean. It hurt, but the pain was exquisite, and Dean knew he was babbling as he begged for more.

“Cas, wanna see you, Cas. Wanna see your cock.”

Castiel paused, as though he’d become so consumed by Dean’s wanton pleasure he’d forgotten he was still wearing pants. He straightened, removing his pants and boxers in one fluid motion and kicking them aside. He stood between Dean’s legs, stroking his rigid, leaking cock.

“Is this what you wanted, Dean?”

Dean groaned, “Yes, God, yes. You’re so fucking beautiful, Cas.” He dropped his head back on the couch, not breaking eye contact. “Please, please fuck me. Make love to me, Castiel.”

Castiel dropped over Dean, swallowing Dean’s pleas in a gentle kiss. Dean could feel Castiel’s cock nudging at his prepared ass and whimpered. Then Castiel was pressing into him, slowly, God, so slowly, and Dean thought he might shatter.

Eventually Castiel bottomed out, filling Dean entirely, and they both stilled, adjusting. The room roared around them, but all Dean felt was Castiel – his cock buried inside him, his forehead pressed to his, his breath on his cheek, his torso pinning Dean’s cock between them. Dean struggled to breath.

“Dean. Dean, look at me.”

Dean opened his eyes. His vision was hazy with pleasure, but Castiel’s brilliant blue eyes came into sharp focus.

Then Castiel started to move.

“Don’t close your eyes, Dean. I want you to look at me. I want you to see me tell you I love you, see me tell you that of all God’s creations, you are the most radiant, the most pure, the most beautiful…” Castiel trailed off, thrusting in earnest.

Dean writhed beneath Castiel. He was close, so close. Then Castiel wrapped his hand around Dean’s cock and pumped. Once, twice, and Dean was cumming, spilling all over them, fingers digging into Castiel’s back, body arching off the couch, his cry catching in his throat as the air rushed out of his lungs.

Castiel thrust a few more times before he stiffened, and Dean knew he was cumming, too, though he was too spent to do much more than hold on. Then Castiel collapsed on top of Dean. They laid there, half draped on the couch, half sliding onto the floor, for a few minutes before Castiel raised himself.

He scooped up Dean, gently laying him on the couch before grabbing a blanket and Dean’s phone. He slid onto the couch next to Dean, tucking Dean against his chest and spreading the blanket over them in the now still room.

“You gonna take a selfie to remember this by?” Dean asked sleepily.

Castiel smiled, “I can, if you want. But I was going to text Sam and tell him the curse is broken and we’ll see him in a few hours.”

Dean blinked, “We broke the curse?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“Hmm. Go, team.”

Castiel kissed the top of Dean’s head, “Sleep, Dean.”

“M’kay,” Dean mumbled, already mostly asleep. “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“That’s exactly how I imagined it.”

Castiel lifted the phone, taking a picture of the two of them burrowed into each other. Dean could delete later if it made him uncomfortable. “Me, too, Dean.”


	3. Epilogue

Dean pulled the popcorn from the microwave before it could burn, snagged a chilled six pack, and headed to the tv room. He paused to let Sam grab a beer before handing it off to Castiel and dropping onto the bed next to him.

“Alright, boys,” Dean said around a huge bite of popcorn. “What are we watching?”

Castiel politely handed Dean a napkin. “I believe it is Sam’s night to choose.”

Sam cleared his throat, “Yes. Well, after the incident at the castle, I thought something special was in order. Hang on.” Sam disentangled himself from the chair he was straddling and strode out of the room.

Dean snorted, and snuggled closer to Castiel. Ordinarily, he’d be respectful of any discomfort public displays of affection might cause his brother, but after the way Sam put his relationship with Castiel in fast forward, Dean didn’t feel too badly. It had worked out for the best, really. They’d stayed another night, just to insure the curse was indeed lifted. (It was.) They’d sent dozens of souls to their final rest. (Well, that was mostly Cas, but still.) Dean and Castiel were totally on the same page in their relationship. (Neither of them had stopped grinning in two days.) _And_ Dean got to have amazing sex with the love of his life.

That fact that the PDA made Sam both uncomfortable and guilty was really just a bonus.

“Oof!” Dean jumped as a package, wrapped sloppily in newsprint, was tossed onto his stomach.

“Wuss. Open it,” Sam instructed, dropping back into his chair.

“May I?” Cas took the gift hesitantly.

“Go ahead, Cas. It’s for you, too.”

Castiel slid his fingertips under the folds in the paper, gently separating the tape from the newsprint without tearing it.

“You can totally rip it, Cas. That’s part of the fun,” Dean urged.

Castiel shook his head, “No, Dean. Sam went to the trouble of wrapping it. I want to honor that.”

“Cas, is this the first gift you’ve unwrapped?” Sam asked.

“Yes.”

Dean felt a pang of guilt, and silently promised himself Castiel would have many more presents in his life in the very near future. “What is it, Cas?”

“DVDs. ‘Scooby Doo, Where Are You?’ complete series,” Cas turned the box, reading about the show. “I believe this is in deference to our most recent case.”

“Sure is,” Sam grinned.

“Thank you, Sam. This is very generous.”

“Yeah, thanks, Sammy! This is awesome!”

 _Yeah_ , Dean thought as he curled up with Castiel and the eerie first cords of Scooby’s theme song filled the little room. _This is definitely awesome_.


End file.
